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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22731709">Hound, Meet Eagle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOnGalway/pseuds/FrostOnGalway'>FrostOnGalway</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Past Abuse, Slavery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:14:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22731709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOnGalway/pseuds/FrostOnGalway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca tries to figure out what his life will be like with his new master. Not bad, apparently.<br/>Very much book-canon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Flavius Aquila &amp; Esca Mac Cunoval</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hound, Meet Eagle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was odd, Esca mused, that someone who spent so much time in a foul mood could bring such joy. It was the sixth day of his service to former Centurion Marcus Aquila and already he had seen and heard much of the impact his <em>domine</em> had on the household. Apparently, the older Aquila had used to spend every waking moment in his study tower—a peculiar feature, that, but one that suited its owner—working on his book. Since Marcus had arrived, Sassticca, the cook, told him, old Aquila had come down every night to sit by the fire in the atrium with his nephew. They played draughts or talked of politics or simply read in the shared quiet. Sometimes his uncle slipped down the steps to watch Marcus from the doorway. Esca had caught him at it more than once. He would stand silently, as if waiting for something. He always turned away with a sigh as soft as fluttering sparrow wings.</p>
<p>Esca did not know exactly what the old man was looking for, what sign he waited on, but he thought he might understand why he searched. Sassticca brought his <em>domine</em> little things to eat most days—complaining loudly of his thinness the entire time—and he would try some under her watchful stare. Often though, he pushed it away when she was gone.</p>
<p>“Here,” he would say to Esca. “I’m not hungry, you eat it.”</p>
<p>Esca would try to change his mind, for he privately agreed with the cook. Marcus was strong, but he had clearly lost a great deal of weight and muscle after his injury. He was pale beneath his nut-brown skin.</p>
<p>The Centurion might eat a bite or two more if Esca’s subtle wheedling worked, but eventually Esca would be forced to do as he was told.</p>
<p>After nearly a week in the Aquila household Esca’s routine was beginning to set. It was not a taxing one. His master did not require much of Esca, nor was he cruel like some of Esca’s other masters had been. In fact, he was often spoke familiarly to Esca. Esca would have thought him <em>too </em>familiar, but that the Centurion always maintained a respectfulness that never pried beyond what Esca told him. Yes, things were settling better than he had expected.</p>
<p>“Take what you can get, that’s what I always say.” Sassticca turned to him. “Here you are.”</p>
<p>Esca accepted the breakfast plate from her and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. She had kept up a steady prattle as she cooked, though Esca had helped her without a word in response. Since he did not know anyone in the town, he had no gossip to contribute. Anyways, he preferred to stay quiet.</p>
<p>The old woman sat down across from him and bit into her bread. “You’ll have a real job of it today,” she said. Esca grunted. “What with the physician coming this morning,” she explained. “He comes once a week now. Used to be every few days, in the beginning. Always puts the young master in a mood. And of course it does, it’s always bad news, and he is so young to have so little hope.”</p>
<p>“You think he will not walk?” Esca asked.</p>
<p>“Oh, maybe someday. But it will be a long time. And he will never march with the Eagles again.”</p>
<p>Esca had pieced together the last, from things the Centurion had said and what he had seen for himself. He could barely hobble from room to room of the house with a cane clutched tightly in his fist. And besides this, Esca had seen the leg for himself when the Centurion bathed or as Esca dressed the wound. He did not greatly love for Esca to care for the injury—from what Esca could see the Centurion was an open but exceedingly private man—but he allowed it with only a twist to the line of his lips. Esca knew that look, and also the pained grimace so often on his master’s face. The difference was easy enough to tell. One was the look of swallowed pride. The other was the face a man made when his pride prevented him from speech. Neither suited his face, or the laugh lines fading from it.</p>
<p>“You must find something to cheer him up.”</p>
<p>Esca looked up sharply. He was a slave, not a shield brother. What was he to do to make his master smile?</p>
<p>Sassticca must have seen his thoughts on his face, for she clucked her tongue and shooed him from the kitchen. “You can do it, you’ll see.”</p>
<p>He found the Centurion in his room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers curled around the edge to brace his arms and his eyes closed.</p>
<p>“Would you like to come out to the atrium?” Esca asked.</p>
<p>“Hm?” The Centurion blinked slowly at Esca before focusing. “No. No, I shall wait here. Ulpius should be here soon. That’s the town physician. Did I tell you he was coming today?”</p>
<p>“The cook told me.”</p>
<p>“Oh. I had intended to tell you. Apologies.”</p>
<p>The Centurion was an unusual man. Esca had seen it first as he lay pinned in the sand of the arena.</p>
<p>Esca shrugged. “He will change the bandages then, or shall I?”</p>
<p>“It can air.”</p>
<p>“Would you like some breakfast?” He looked ready to refuse so Esca added, “Something light?”</p>
<p>“Oh, alright.”</p>
<p>He brought back one of Sassticca’s still-warm rolls and a cup of milk for the Centurion. He ate while Esca shifted restlessly from foot to foot. He looked up from his meal. “Why don’t you go wait at the door?” he suggested. Esca nodded and slipped down the hall.</p>
<p>He passed Marcipor, who squeaked and turned in the opposite direction, and Stephanos, who watched him silently over the breakfast tray of his own master.</p>
<p>It started raining just as the healer arrived. Even if Esca had not heard the rush of a sudden downpour, he would have known from the loud complaints of the fat man. Really he was not so wet. Esca laid his cloak over the bench.</p>
<p>“The Centurion is waiting for you in his quarters.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes. I know the way, boy.” It had been many summers since Esca was considered a boy by his tribe, but he did not say that. He trailed behind as the Roman waddled down the hall.</p>
<p>“Marcus, dear boy!” he greeted jovially. “You are looking well.” Esca looked in from the doorway and saw his master sitting as he had left him with his unfinished breakfast set aside. The physician turned around. “That will be all, slave,” he said with the same smile still on his face. He stepped back.</p>
<p>“No.” The Centurion’s eyes caught his own. “Esca may stay.”</p>
<p>The man’s smile dropped. “As you wish.” He placed his bag on the floor. “Well then, let us get to it.”</p>
<p>The Centurion wordlessly stretched back on the cot and the physician got to work. He poked and prodded and stretched. The longer Esca watched, the more he felt fire pool in his belly. He never slowed or gentled his movements when the Centurion hissed. And he never stopped <em>talking, </em>not even to hear the answers to the questions he asked. The healers in his village would never have carried on this way, Esca knew. The fire flared. There had been two, an old woman with gnarled but steady hands. The other had been his uncle, his father’s younger brother. He was the gentlest man Esca knew, but when the call came to fight, he had stood behind Esca’s father with his spear in his hand.</p>
<p>Esca shoved the memories back down and focused on the Centurion. He bore the physician in silence, save for a sharp intake of breath now and then.</p>
<p>When it was over, the physician had nothing of use to say that Esca could not have told him. It was all Esca could do to walk quietly behind, hand him his cloak, and open the door without a word.</p>
<p>He went back and the Centurion was lying with an arm thrown over his eyes. He stood over him and said, “Finish your breakfast.”</p>
<p>He sat up with a jolt and Esca stumbled back. “What?”</p>
<p>Esca could only gape like a fish pulled from the water. Why had he ordered his <em>domine </em>so? The Centurion gestured with a hand, but Esca did not move. He looked at Esca expectantly.</p>
<p>“Are you going to hand me the food or not?” Esca the fish was dropped back in the river. He handed over the plate. The Centurion chewed listlessly. He glanced at Esca, who was still standing over him. “Something on your mind?”</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t have done that,” Esca blurted. No, it was not Esca who spoke; a madman had taken over his mouth.</p>
<p>“Done what?”</p>
<p>Esca swallowed and shook his head, but at the Centurion’s look he stayed where he was. “He—you shouldn’t—” Esca stumbled. He wrestled with the madman for control. “That man is like a maggot crawling beneath a rock.” The madman won. Lugh, light of the sun, could he ask for a lashing in plainer words?</p>
<p>For some reason, the Centurion burst out laughing. He didn’t stop, and Esca shifted from foot to foot. “That’s near exactly—” Marcus snorted, “what I said about him after the last time he was here.”</p>
<p>Esca tried to explain, “That fat <em>physician</em> barely knows his craft.”</p>
<p>Marcus paused in his laughter. “And that is just what my uncle said in reply.” He looked at Esca with helpless humor dancing in his eyes. Esca felt light, as easy to lift as an empty bucket. A smile tugged at his own lips.</p>
<p>Cheering up the Centurion had not been so hard. One need only get impassioned and idiotic to make him laugh. Esca would have to tell Sassticca later. Or perhaps, he would keep this moment between himself and the Centurion.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And another Eagle fic. I love this fandom (it's not popular, i know. movie seems more well-know, but book-verse is a billion times better, just saying) and these fics have been waiting mostly completed and collecting digital dust for ages. Thought I'd edit and post instead of sleeping because why not?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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